Too Fond of Books

Recently, while I was visiting my sister, I finished watching the first season of "The Carrie Diaries" on my AirBnB's host's Netflix account and griped to my sister about it next morning. I went into a few reasons why I was dissatisfied with the show and after a minute, my sister spoke up. "Why," she asked, "Would you waste your time on something you hate so much?" I backpedaled a bit, and tried to explain what had drawn me to the show in the first place (the awesome of Freema Agyeman--much minimized, alas; 80s clothing; somewhat interesting character arcs for a few of the minor characters), but it was clear that my sister thought I was 100% crazy, and that she'd never heard of hate!watching anything at all.

Generally, I don't hate!watch shows much. America's Next Top Model, for example, is fun with a glass of wine and MST3K-style snarkery, but it's usually the same thing from episode to episode, and I move on. The problem occurs when a show that I like veers from 'genuine pleasure' to 'guilty pleasure' category, and then into hate!watch territory. Once Upon a Time went from "oh, wow, this show is so much fun, I need to watch every episode obsessively" to "OK, this is getting little over the top, but still fun" and, finally, "who are all these people and why should I care about them?" I guess if that's the case, a long, slow demise, then I don't feel so bad about hate!watching a few episodes in the hopes that the whole endeavor will slide back onto the quality side of the equation.

More problematic, though, is the show that goes from "genuine pleasure" to hate!watching at alarming speed. This is where I am with SyFy's Defiance. There are a lot of reasons I want to like it: there's a dynamite ensemble cast who have a lot of chemistry together; the setting is interesting and the world-building, although muddled, compelling; and the themes of the show and the individual storylines within it are mostly interesting. Add to this a lot of diverse roles for female characters and slightly dystopian sci-fi feel to the whole thing, and bam, it should rock, right?

Well... not as much as I'd like.

For one thing, not since Lost have I had so many questions about the larger meta-plot of the story that are going largely unanswered. The frustrating thing about this is that many of these could be answered with a few lines of dialogue. I don't need an exposition dump; I just want to know a few things that would help me understand the characters and their motivations better. For instance, the show is set in the near-future, after an alien invasion/colonization effort went bad. Why is there no anti-alien sentiment? Where's the "Aliens go home" graffiti that I'm sure would adorn many, many buildings in this setting? Further, the Earth Republic (a kind of grumpier UN, at least as far as I can make out) seems to have no greater goals than messing with our heroes/heroines' plans. Wouldn't they have some bigger idea? Why do we never hear about them trying to do good things, like starting up manufacture of medicine and infrastructure?

Equally frustrating is this show's depiction of women. On one hand, there are a number of interesting, diverse roles for female characters. Jaime Murray is excellent as Stahma, an alien woman dealing with newfound power and the cost to hold onto it. There's also Doc Ewell, whose dry sarcasm is perfectly timed and in sharp contrast to the earnestness of those around her. Julie Benz plays Amanda, the town's (now ex-) mayor, with a lot of poise, except when she's being menaced by memories of her rape at the hands on an unknown assailant when she was younger. This sexual assault is on its way to becoming a major plot point, and, really, all the women on this show have been shown sexually threatened, assaulted, or wounded at some point, whereas the men (with one notable exception) have not. It's gotten so frustrating that I'm beginning to wish there was a pact that authors/writers/showrunners (for this show and all others) could sign agreeing not to use rape or sexual assault as a plot device. I don't care that it "develops" the character further (because there are other, more effective and less rape-y ways to do this just as effectively), or that it's "realistic" (because sci-fi and fantasy are chances to do something that isn't necessarily realistic.) It's not even very original. I would like to watch one episode of Defiance that doesn't show one of its female characters wounded, assaulted, or threatened sexually. Just one.

And that worst thing is, this show has a lot of potential to be fascinating. I've never seen a mainstream piece of work approaching a tricky subject like cultural appropriation in such a thought-provoking way. I also like the religious systems the aliens brought with them that are slowly being revealed in fits and starts, sometimes clearly menacing, but always completely alien and convincing. As I mentioned before, the cast is fantastic and the special effects work well with the story and feel organic. I don't want to end up hate!watching this show... but I don't see how much longer I can watch it for pleasure, either.

It looks like Gisele from the Fast and the Furious series is Wonder Woman, provided she doesn't have conflicts later on. I, for one, am pretty pleased about this. Gal Gadot did well in the movies in both acting and stunts, and although she's not as muscular as I imagine WW would actually be, I think she'll have the presence to handle the role, even if it's just a 30-second appearance at the end (which, given the title of the movie as Batman vs. Superman, seems more likely than her getting any meaningful screen time.) But, over on io9, Charlie Jane Anders makes some compelling points about the problems of bringing WW to the big screen at all, pointing out that because of WW's somewhat convoluted and mythologically-based origin story, you either make a movie solely set in a Greek mythology-aware world (a la Percy Jackson) or you strip that part of the story away and just make her into "Sexy Female Badass Warrior Woman." The problem is that doing either of these things is highly unlikely to happen in a satisfying way in a movie. Right now, I suspect the script's going to go something like this:

Batman: I have an ideological problem with you, Superman.
Superman: And I have one with you, Batman.
(Combat ensues.)
(Cut to Justice League satellite. WW and the Flash are watching the monitors of earthly activity.)
Flash: Aw, man, not this again.
WW: Boys and their contests. Your male ways are foolish in the extreme.

Which, although entertaining, doesn't really do justice to either character, and just makes me long for the day that the WW movie is a definite possibility and not a sticking point amongst fans.

In Books:

Richard Stark's Parker: The Hunter, by Darwin Cooke: The artwork in this is fantastic--I love the way that blue wash turns into noir black as the story unfolds and the overall visual style is Mad Men meets James Bond. But the gender issues in this story are disturbing enough to make this read two stars instead of three or four: women are disposable dolls and bodies, to be screwed and left for dead, or made into helpless pawns. This book doesn't do well by its male characters, either. By the end, I started to feel like this was masculinity via vein-popping caricature (I'm not kidding about the vein thing--it's actually a minor plot/descriptive point.) If you enjoy noir detective stories and are willing to ignore the strings of violent and cruel deaths, you'll probably enjoy this quite a lot; unfortunately, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

The Art Forger, by B. A. Shapiro: In all fairness, this book really isn't a bad piece of writing and shouldn't be lumped in with the one above. However, it does fit into the category of "can't believe I read this" due to its detailed and fascinating explanation of how a forger goes about recreating (convincingly) a famous/stolen piece of art, in this case, the Degas painting stolen from the Gardiner Museum in Boston. I liked the main character, although I couldn't believe how naive she was, given the past that she was coming from, which unfolded in fairly riveting detail throughout the story. Impressively, a lot of the minor characters are fleshed out in interesting and perceptive ways over the course of the book, instead of just remaining stereotypes. This was an easy and fun read, and I found myself very invested by the end. This is a book, though, that I wished I'd saved for the beach, because it would be perfect for a leisurely summer afternoon: engrossing, but not too challenging one way or another. I do recommend it for that!

At the Movies!:

The Great Gatsby: Uhm, wow. Yeah, I actually saw this movie, and I'm still wondering what the hell was up for most of it, or why the audience was expected to care about any of the characters and their whiney, pathetic, little lives. On the other hand: CLOTHES! SPECTACLE! METAPHOR! Seriously, the costuming and set dressing alone were so pretty and amazing that I was willing to forgive a lot of bullshit... but there was an awful lot of bullshit, and it went on and on, too. It got to the point where I started to go in little thought circles that went like: DiCaprio, if you say 'old sport' one more time, I'm gonna walk out of here and... ooo, wait, what's Carey Mulligan wearing now? SHINEY. And OMG DiCaprio's pink suit is so handsome that I just can't think about any of the stupid stuff right now... and look at Jordan's dress..., etc. etc. So, I suppose if you really love clothes and fashion, and crazy parties writ large on the big screen, this is the movie for you, but if you don't like to hear about Rich White People's Problems, perhaps seek out another movie.

Two side notes about this film: 1) I had been worried that the current trend for out-of-period music in period pieces would engulf this movie in annoying volume, but it was not that bad, and the soundtrack makes effective use of some lovely Gershwin music right when it's most needed to complete the spectacle, so that's a plus; and 2) I have no idea why would you ever need to see this movie in 3D. Aside from snow falling and the car chase, there is nothing that would be improved by special effects and pinch-y glasses. Save your $4, people!

I've seen, read, and experienced a lot of wonderful pop culture this year, and I'm still boggling over just *how much* I've gotten to experience at all, given that my son turned 2 and spent much of his time unintentionally taking up mine. (99% of the time, that's great, but the other 1% is tough.) I've been lucky to get anything done at all! Fortunately, what I have been able to reward myself with is on the top-notch side of the equation.

( Movies! The usual suspects, with a late entry of 'Argo', a tremendous, tight piece of filmmaking. )

( Books! Are you my influencing machine who knows how to be a woman/space girl/consulting detective/mother, or just a cloud atlas? )

( TV Shows! Escapism in the form of ensemble comedy and music. )

If I had to wear a t-shirt with a design that encapsulated my pop culture choices of 2012, it would definitely be a collection of awesome ladies all having tea at the same table. (Princess Bubblegum would be hosting and discussing futurism with Sonmi-451; Alison Bechdel and her mother would be facing off against some of Joanna Trollope's family characters; Hushpuppy would be comparing monsters with Zita the Spacegirl; and everyone would have a "Leslie Knope for President!" button.) Before I forget about it, here is a tremendously interesting video that showcases the roles that women had in Hollywood/mainstream film this year:



This leads me into my hopes and dreams for 2013 and pop culture: ( More here. )

In Books:

I Want My MTV: The Uncensored Story of the Music Video Revolution, by Craig Marks: I gave up on this about 100 pages in. Here's what I said on Goodreads: "I don't think that I was the target audience for this work. After about a hundred pages, it was just a blur of people talking about cocaine-fueled orgies in between making videos, casual misogyny, and poor business decisions. I should say that I am highly impressed at the author's interviewing and editing skills; without careful thought and planning, this work would have been even more disorganized and confusing. And it is amazing to think that the cultural influence that MTV had came from such a tiny germ of an idea executed by people who had almost no idea what they were doing at the time. This said, it completely lost my interest in the long list of interviewees and overall tone of the book, which was self-congratulatory and completely unaware of the implications of its content." I still stand by that. I was hoping my impression would have changed with a few weeks' time, but I'm still dissatisfied.

Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me, by Ellen Forney: I'm already looking forward to reading this again. It's a very honest, open look at Forney's grappling with bipolar disorder and how she overcomes it (and what this process entails.) I've been a fan of hers for a while, and I'm amazed after reading this that she was able to create the excellent, insightful comics that she does/did, given what she was going through at the time.

How to Be a Woman, by Catie Moran: An excellent, funny piece of writing, with an honest, wry tone. Essential reading for any card-carrying, 3rd wave feminist. Hell, it's essential reading for just about anyone!

Rosemary and Rue, by Seanan McGuire: I did enjoy this book, but I cannot remember reading anything like it, where I was so worried that the main character would die (despite the fact that I know she's the protagonist through the whole series.) She had so little to go on, and the forces she was up against had so much. Honestly, I kept wanting to hug her and tell her it would be all right, even as I suspected that it wouldn't. McGuire has a great eye for character and setting, and her descriptions of San Francisco make it a living backdrop, not just a location for the story to have short scenes in. I'm eager to read the next book in the series, but after a little while, when I've had some time to let my worry-urge rest.

On DVD/Netflix:

The Five-Year Engagement: Sometimes when you watch a movie, there's ONE SCENE that is so much better than anything else that the rest of the film just wastes away in comparison. The Five-Year Engagement was one of those movies, where there's a terrifically funny scene about three-quarters of the way through between Emily Blunt and Allison Brie. It was so good, in fact, that I wished the film had just been those two funny ladies, being their awesome, hilarious selves. The rest of the story has some OK bits, but nothing measures up to that particular sequence.

The Campaign: What a determinedly odd movie. Parts of it were funny, but other parts of it were so over the top, I don't know what to think about it.

Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Season 2: Perhaps I've been reading Escher Girls a little too much, but the women's character designs in this are really starting to bug me. It's one thing to have to simplify a costume or a body shape for the sake of easy animation, but when all the female characters have the same exact body proportions, it really starts to get dull, visually speaking. (And, for the record, these measurements appear to be 38-18-42.) The other annoying thing is the rebranding of the show to write out the token regular female character (Wasp) and token regular person of color (Black Panther) in favor of Iron Man, Thor, Captain America, and the Hulk. Wasp and Black Panther could easily hold my attention as a super-team all by themselves, and their absence in the recent storylines is distressing.

Recently, I've had the good fortune to see two movies that received little or no press when they were released, but turned out to be (mostly) very well done, interesting pieces of work. Although one of them has what I consider to be a major narrative flaw, both are well worth checking out.

First up, there's Chronicle, a found-footage empowered teenagers story. Three teenaged boys in Washington state are exposed to *something* (it's not clear what, although it looks extraterrestrial in the few brief shots we see it for) that gives them super powers like telekinesis, flight, and natural body armor. Of course, all three of them initially squander these powers on stupid things until they begin to realize the consequences of their actions, and then the temptation of power proves too great for the group's saddest link. Throughout this movie, I kept thinking of Lev Grossman's The Magicians, because of the links between the main characters and outcome of both narratives. This is probably as close to a live-action Magicians (minus the magical land of Fillory) as we're ever going to get, and perhaps that's for the best. I wouldn't want to visit this reality too often. I did appreciate the settings and the casting, which was excellent. Everyone looked like people I'd gone to high school with, and the writing, although a little sluggish towards the end, was appropriately profanity-strewn. There aren't any big name actors in this film, but that's OK; the three main characters are very well played and the story is excellent without having some famous person's reputation overshadowing it.

On the flip side, there's Monsters, which is the weaker of the two movies here. The ending/beginning is a confusing, muddled mess, and the symbolism through the narrative is incredibly heavy-handed (so much so that I thought the rickety shacks and structures in the story would collapse under the weight of THEIR MEANING alone.) But that doesn't mean the rest of the movie isn't good, and this film was a really nice example of character development and compelling scene setting. In the not-too-distance future, aliens have landed in the forests of Mexico, half of which is now an "infected zone" that the U.S. and Mexican governments can barely contain. The hero and heroine are trying to make their ways home, and as they travel together, they start to fall in love against an increasingly alien, menacing backdrop. What I really liked about this movie was how convincingly inhuman the aliens were, and just how many empty spaces and landscapes the locations scouts were able to provide. The most eerie sequence in the whole story comes somewhere near the end and involves a ghost town in Galveston, Texas, and it's just... spectacularly creepy. People usually talk about movies that have "edge of your seat action", but this was "edge of your seat exploration." The whole movie was like this, for the most part, interrupted only by brief bits and pieces of dialogue and character development, and it was quite good--not in your face action, all the time, but a general impression of real tension and drama in the face of dangerous and strange obstacles. As I mentioned before, the beginning and ending are a bit odd, and it's there that things fall apart. Everything else was terrific.

In any case, I wish that movies like these (and the underrated Sleep Dealer, another excellent but little seen sci-fi film) would get more press. I would prefer to see more like these get made and appreciated!

Prompted by this excellent discussion over at the Onion A.V. Club, I got to thinking about the pop culture storytelling conventions that really, really drive me crazy:

1) The Hollywood shorthand for "misanthropic genius on the brink of a breakthrough" is the scene where said character writes down everything he (because these characters are 99% male) know regarding the problem on a chalkboard/whiteboard/wall/vertical surface and stares at it until the Moment of Revelation occurs. (Bonus points if sidekick!character tries to help out and receives only snark and mockery.) This scene always bugs me because it's lazy storytelling. On one hand, I understand the issue that writers have: showing someone's thought process is difficult, and if we go with the real world, solving-aloud method, the story slams on its brakes. But I would challenge writers to find another way of showing internal process, one that doesn't involve a cliched, been-there, done-that image. "Sherlock" got beyond this rather nicely in Baskerville Hound episode, where we see a literal animation of Holmes' thoughts and mental connections, and that was a nice change. I'd like to see a Moment of Revelation occur, though, in a silly, everyday life situation as it often does: why can't we see characters eating cornflakes or doing laundry when the revelation comes along? Mundane, repetitive tasks often afford a perfect space for independent thought, and I'm willing to bet these sorts of activities would help make the character more accessible.

2) Killing any characters to motivate the main character to do something he/she doesn't want to. Much has been written on the subject of female characters' deaths in service to this ridiculous plot trope, but I think killing anyone off merely to provide drama is a lazy storytelling motif. It's one thing to have a character motivated by vengeance, but vengeance is a complicated theme, and it's one with long-term implications. Sure, Main Character A will avenge the death of Beloved Character B by murdering Villain C, and then the story's over; but what about years down the line when A realizes that he/she betrayed B's fundamental beliefs and therefore dishonored B's memory and wishes? Character death does happen, but I think it needs to be made clear that the whoever gets killed isn't just being made into a plot device to drive the story forward.

3) The ugliest or most beautiful person in the pool of suspects turns out to be the murderer! Because average-looking people never commit crimes. ;)

I remember the very first video store I ever went to. It was Captain Video!* and it occupied the space next to CVS in a local mall that Peet's Coffee & Tea owns now. It was a pretty small place, with slanted shelves lined with empty video cases and little labels stuck on them that read "Betamax only" or "VHS only." My parents let my sister and I choose one movie for ourselves ("The Last Unicorn") while they argued back and forth over which one to rent for themselves (they ended up choosing "The Lion in Winter".) It never really occurred to me at the time, but choosing a movie and deciding when to watch it was something of a revolution for my family and many others. I only knew as the credits rolled and Mia Farrow started her awful, reedy singing that I was watching a movie at home because my sister and I felt like it, and it was pretty great.

The video store was a semi-permanent fixture of my childhood and adolescence from then on, although in very measured quantity, ever a great frustration to me. Captain Video! disappeared rather quickly (as did Betamax), but a Blockbuster showed up fairly quickly, and there was always a kind friend who had the latest thing and invited me over to watch it. I should say here that my parents are most decidedly NOT leave-the-tv-on-in-the-background people. Their relationship with video rentals was actively characterized by a wary antagonism lest videos eat up time marked out for other, more wholesome activities, and this idea persisted through my entire childhood. One summer on a balmy Cape Cod afternoon, for example, we were at the video store when another family with children about my age came in, their arms laden with tapes. My mother regarded them with active disgust and when they'd left, she said, "I bet they spent all weekend watching those and doing nothing else. I bet they didn't even talk to each other." I didn't reply. I just wished I could rent as many videos as I wanted to.

What I didn't realize was that video rental was a double edged sword. When I got into high school and friends started having driver's licenses and cars, video rentals were at the top of our lists of Fun Things To Do. After all, we could all scrounge up the $3 between us, and there was always the possibility of renting something our parents might disapprove of, an illicit but largely empty thrill. But what we didn't realize was that trips to the video store would tear friendships apart, or waste hours of valuable leisure time. I had friends with definite preferences and agendas, and nowhere was this more on display than in the video store.** There was an evening in high school where three of my friends and I spent an hour and a half at the La Jolla Blockbuster, arguing over what to watch. I can't remember what we picked in the end, or even watching it afterwards. All I remember was a looming sense of amazement that my friends were that stubborn and unwilling to compromise with one another. Renting videos with boyfriends was also a test: would he be pushy and rude, insisting on Die Hard or a horror movie that I had no interest in, or would he be polite and choose something I wanted to see, like an anime***? It was like a date at the movies, but with the possibility for judgment even greater because of the sheer amount of choice in front of us.

But for all of its shortcomings, I can't bring myself to regret all my time at the video store. I love Netflix streaming and DVD-by-mail, but nothing can compare with seeing the exact video/DVD you want and taking it immediately, the child-like, slightly narcissistic thrill of "I will watch this now because I chose it!". And like any business, getting to know the people who worked at our local Blockbuster store, was a treat, too. (Our favorite manager used to bring his dog in to work, an adorable little mutt who didn't mind me picking him up at all.) Even though the video store was an inherently commercial enterprise, it was still a part of our neighborhood. My son will grow up not knowing what this was like, and he will, no doubt, roll his eyes at me when I start to tell him. It's just weird to think that something that was such an integral part of the cultural landscape has almost vanished completely.

* According to my Mom, the owner of the shop actually had a Captain Video costume, but when pressed for details, she always claims not to remember. For the life of me, I can't remember one way or another.

** I'm sure it wasn't just me and my friends; I often think that video store employees must have overheard some epics endings to relationships brewing.

*** Blockbuster was also the avenue to some of my very first anime, although back then the notoriously violent and X-rated Urutsukudoji: Legend of the Overfiend was often shelved next to Unico: The Little Unicorn. I used to complain about the inappropriateness of this to the video store employees, with varying degrees of success.

As usual, the Onion A.V.'s Q&A discussion brings a wonderful topic up for consideration: If you had one wish, what would you change about pop culture? There are some excellent answers, mostly having to do with a pop culture utopia where people of all genders, races, and sexual orientations are better represented across the board, studios don't run things into the ground because of monetary/stupid reasons, and society as a whole tries to appreciate art better. I'd like to bend the rules and add a few more wishes of my own:

1) Comic books/graphic novels/manga/manwha/webcomics are taken more seriously by the mainstream publishing houses. Rather than being simple, cheaply printed afterthoughts, or supposedly dying industries (io9's recent article about the state of the manga publishing world made me so sad, coupled with Matt Thorn's comments about how poorly translators are paid these days), couldn't publishers embrace comics and graphic novels in any form for what they are: a diverse group of books with the power to reach untold numbers of new readers? Even from a base profit standpoint, luring new readers in means more people buying books and discussing them, which can only be a good thing, and it leads to my next wish:

2) Everyone, please stop talking about the demise of the traditional book in favor of the ebook format. I can understand that newspapers and magazines need to evolve to new print mediums; they're not meant to be long-lasting, time-withstanding physical items that you own forever. Books, on the other hand, as I am reminded every time we move, are things you keep around. And even though ebooks are wonderful for plane rides and waiting in lines, they don't feel substantial in the same way that books do. When I reread Sherlock Holmes on my Kindle, I don't have the same sense of satisfaction that I get when I page through the handed down, hardcover edition of the same text I own, with my great-uncle's notes scrawled here and there. Obviously, every cheap mass-market paperback doesn't have the residual meaning my Sherlock Holmes does, but it's exciting to put down a large, thick book and say, "I read that." Ebooks... you delete from your Nook or Kindle? I don't know what you do with them when you're done. I don't think, in the long run, that ebooks will completely win. People may own fewer real books, but they're never going to go away all together because the digital experience simply is not the same.

3) This may just be my city, but I am sad to see the demise of second-run movie houses with cheap tickets. Since I don't have the time these days to see everything right when it comes out, I would really, really like the option to go later on and still see a movie on the big screen. I would be much more willing to buy popcorn at a theater where the tickets weren't horrifically expensive, too.

4) Speaking of movie theaters, let's do away with all pre-show "entertainment" in favor of say... nothing. Or cartoons. Anything but commercials! I get that nonsense on the small screen; I don't want it on the large one.

5) Finally, can we please strike the phrase "beyond imagination" from all movie trailers? By definition, nothing is beyond imagination!

There's an interesting essay over on The Onion's A.V. Club page about whether you should be able to ask for a refund from a theater if you don't like the movie. I've never, ever walked out of a movie, although I have received refunds and free tickets from a theater when there were projector problems (in the case of one of the "The Mummy" films, the movie was so bad anyway that the projector breaking down didn't really bother me; in the case of "Doubt", I did notice a strange shadow on the screen throughout the whole film, and was pleased that the manager of the theater was waiting at the exit, freebie tickets in hand and apology at the ready.)

There have certainly been movies that I wanted to walk out of, but didn't do so because I was with someone else. For example, "Event Horizon" was awful and gross, but I was with a friend who didn't seem bothered by the content, so I just waited for it to be over. (After the movie, a guy in front of us was going on and on about how great it had been, and my friend and I walked to our car, silent. After a long while, she said, "I wish I could have seen the movie he saw, because it sounded really cool.") "Mortal Combat 2" was so laughably terrible that I couldn't take seriously at all; it also helped that the theater was filled with drunken frat boys who kept screaming "MORTAL COMBAAAAATTTT!!!" at every conceivable opportunity. The film itself was horrifically stupid, but the viewing atmosphere was fabulous. And the part of me that doesn't like hyper-violence wishes I had walked out of "Kill Bill, Part 1", because, well, I just can't un-see things.

But, in general, I feel like asking for a refund from the theater itself is counter-productive. The staff didn't make the film; they're just showing it to you. You're paying for the opportunity to sit in the theater and watch a movie, not comment on its content. If you want to vote with your dollars, shouldn't you have already done so before walking into a movie? There are plenty of reviews out there that will tell you if the film is your cup of tea, and even though I think the ratings system is deeply flawed, at least it gives you some indication of what you're about to see. But perhaps I am overthinking it. I know that some people just walk into a movie, judging it by its poster and crossing their fingers. Do they get a refund if they don't like the content?

[Poll #1761434]

I try to come up with a straight answer to this and keep going around in circles. Say there was a scene in the movie that you were utterly unprepared for, even after doing research and reading reviews; would that warrant a refund demand? And how soon is said refund demand appropriate--10 minutes into the movie? 20? The end? There's a detail of the social contract here that I'm definitely confused about.

In all honesty, there are other matters that I feel far more inclined to complain about at the theater, most notably the exceedingly overpriced popcorn and candy. And, then, of course, there are the movies that I WISH I could have walked out of, because they were unpleasant ("American Beauty"--how I despise that film) or boring ("Meet Joe Black" = UGH). Anyway, given how rarely I get to theaters now, I hope never to walk out of a movie and plan to do my review-reading homework as diligently as possible.